The Addict
by Little Witch 87
Summary: He hated himself for what he did, for what he had become, for what he would always be... Now rated T, but Chapter 2 is the M so there's a warning there! My first ever fan fiction, so please R&R : xxxx
1. Midnight Memories

**Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.**

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This is my first ever fan fiction, so I'd really appreciate any comments you might have – good or bad. I'd prefer the good ones though:) If you've got any suggestions for the storyline too, maybe something you'd like to happen? There is a plot, but I'm writing as I go so there's always space for extra bits.**

**Hope you like it :)**

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**Chapter 1 – Midnight Memories**

Serverus stared morosely out the window, at the cloudless night sky. The sun had disappeared behind the mass of jagged mountains far in the distance. The sky, despite the lateness of the hour, was splashed with deep purple, and the crescent moon cast a ghostly glow across the valley from where it hung in the midnight sky.

Dressed only in a black silk gown, he sighed quietly, resting his head on the cold glass, before raising his head and sighing again. He turned his head, and gazed at the sleeping body lying in his bed. The girl lay all but naked, with only a sheet to hide what dignity remained with her. Her long dark hair tumbled down the sides of her face, and across her breasts. One hand lay next to her cheek, the other across her chest, which moved rhythmically from her gentle breathing. Her eyelids fluttered in her sleep. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful and yet to Severus she was disgusting.

No, that wasn't quite right. She was beautiful, but she disgusted him because of what he had done to her. He was disgusted with himself. He hated himself for the way he was. He wished to change, but he didn't know how. And yet, at the same moment he pitied himself, and the sleeping girl. She had no idea, or she soon wouldn't. Also, there was a hidden shred of pleasure that rippled through his body, that caused the tiny hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end, with nervous excitement, and shivers travelled down his spine as he relived the night's events.

It had begun about 8 o'clock. Snape had been down in one of his teaching dungeons. He chosen the one furthest down in the Earth, which also made it the most depressing place to be. No natural light could enter the room. The only light was from a few burning torches that hung in brackets on the stone walls, that dripped with icy water, and where moss and other lichens grew sporadically, enjoying the dampness.

A knock on the wooden door.

"Enter", snapped Snape, without turning around from arranging a variety of different concoctions in his potions cupboard.

The heavy door creaked and groaned as it was pushed open. A dark haired girl entered. Her hair hung in a long plait down the side of her face. Her brown eyes seemed to sparkle in the darkness, but her face wore a sullen expression, coupled with a hint of fear. She took a few steps into the room, and then hesitating, she stopped.

"Come in Patil", said Snape solemnly, "we haven't got all night".

Parvati entered the room, closing the door behind. She walked towards the oaken desk, and stood before it. Her hands clasped in front of her, and her head slightly bowed.

Snape turned around, and stared at the figure before him. She was a good choice he decided. When it came to these things, you had to get it right. Too young, that wasn't any good. Too old, well that took the amusement and pleasure out of it. It had to be a girl, as she began to blossom into adulthood. Still innocent and naive, as she learned about her body, and development, but with the knowledge of what she was about to become.

Parvati was a good choice thought Snape. At fifteen, it was illegal, but what he was about to do was illegal anyway, so her age was irrelevant.

"Please sit", said Snape gesturing with his hand and producing a chair out of thin air, for her to sit on.

Parvati raised her head, and sat down. Her hands remained clasped, but her eyes met those of the Potions master. Inky eyes met her brown ones. His eyes seemed like never-ending, sinister tunnels. For a few moments, the pair kept their line of sight locked with each other.

Finally Snape broke the silence.

"You know why you're here Patil"

She nodded, the fear even more pronounced in her eyes.

"I won't tolerate consistent talking in my classes Patil. You, and Miss Brown are a constant source of annoyance to me. I find your childish behaviour tiresome, and if you want to scrape at least an Acceptable in Potions, then I suggest you start getting your head down and doing some work"

Snape looked down his nose, at the now shame-faced Parvati, with disdain.

"Yes Sir", came the whispered reply.

Snape nodded in approval, and waved his wand. A silver teapot, with 2 cups and saucers appeared on the wooden desk. Parvati looked up from her lap, and observed the tea set curiously.

"Tea, Patil?"

This didn't seem quite right to Parvati. Here she was arriving for a detention with the teacher with the worst reputation in the school, and he was offering her tea. She couldn't figure it out. She met the Potions master's eyes again. In a strange kind of way, he was attractive. Not his greasy hair, hooked nose and sallow skin – but his eyes, she found them mesmerising. Anyone could easily lose themselves in those dark, mysterious eyes. What else fascinated Parvati, and other girls that she'd spoken to was the power that radiated from him. The way he stalked around, oblivious to the snide comments. His arrogance was attractive to her. Awakening from her thoughts, she found herself nodding silently in answer to his question.

Snape gestured with his wand again, and the teapot rose in the air, tilted itself and poured a steady stream of liquid into each teacup. Snape passed Parvati a cup, and watched as she took a small sip. Her striking eyes lowered, she swallowed the mouthful.

It tasted sweet and creamy. It was flavoured like butterscotch, and she wanted more. She sipped again, taking more of the liquid into her mouth. Again, and again she drank deeply from the cup. Snape continued to watch the girl. His own cup remained untouched upon the table.

Parvati drained her cup, placed it back on the table, and wiped her mouth delicately with the back of her hand. Then she looked to face the teacher, to see the shadow of a smile play across his lips. She lent back against her chair, and closed her eyes. Her head seemed to be spinning. This wasn't right. That tea, it wasn't tea. What had she drunk? ………….


	2. Powerless to Resist

**Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.**

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Chapter 2 – Powerless to Resist**

Parvati closed her eyes, concentrating. She put her hand onto the chair arm, and pushed herself off the seat. She wobbled where she stood, her hands moved to hold her head, massaging her temples. Her legs felt weak. Suddenly her knees gave way, and her body began to collapse to the dungeon floor. But there was no pain, no impact. Instead she felt hands, firm hands seizing her back, and pulling her back to her feet. Steadying her, one hand crept round her waist, the other rose to her face, touching her chin, and tilting her face gently upwards.

She opened her eyes to find herself face to face with Snape. His eyes gazed back at her. Instead of the usual sinister glare, they looked kind, caring…loving. She moved her lips, attempting to speak, but he placed a finger across them, to stop her. The tenderness of his skin touching her, caused tingles to run through the length of her body. Butterflies erupted in her stomach. She wanted him to hold her, to kiss her, to love her.

She was powerless to resist as he moved his mouth over hers, breathing softly on onto her lips. He felt her body quiver with anticipation, and let his mouth meet hers. Gently to begin with, their lips met. Eagerly she kissed him back. He kissed her more firmly now, holding her body close to his. Needing her, wanting her. She parted her lips, and swiftly his tongue slipped into the moisture and warmth inside her. Their tongues stroked each other, each exploring the other.

Her hands wrapped around his back. Pulling them closer together. Their kiss became more intense. They were devouring each other in their lust. Snape's hand worked it's way to the zip on her robes. Pulling it down, her ropes dropped down to the floor, and settled round her feet. Snape pulled away from their embrace, and holding the girl at arm's length, looked up and down her body. She wore nothing, but white underwear. A lacy bra enclosed her small, but perfectly rounded breasts. His eyes wandered down across her golden stomach, and reached her knickers, clinging tightly to her buttocks. He smiled appreciatively, and his eyes rose back to her face, glowing faintly in the torchlight. She nibbled down on her lip, nervously. He touched her lips again with his finger, and she smiled.

He let his hands fall and travel up and down her body, feeling the softness of her skin. Promptly his hands reached the class of her bra, and unhooking it, it fell to the floor amongst the robes. His hands swooped on the uncovered flesh. She tilted her head back as he pulled her body closer to his again, and his mouth finding hers. Closing her eyes, she let his hands caress her breasts. He held her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, until they began to grow with pleasure.

Feeling the change, he released himself from their kiss, and let his lips move down her chin, her neck, along her shoulders and down to her breasts. Desperately, urgently seeking. Keeping one hand around one, he let his mouth find her nipple, and began to suck, gently tugging on the tender flesh. The girl moaned in delight, letting her hands hold his head, moving her fingers through his jet black hair.

His grip on her body tightened, and the sucking on her breast began be came harder. Her breathing intensified. Suddenly he broke away, and pulled her to her knees on the stone floor. They knelt against each other, and she looked uncertainly into his eyes. He pulled her into an embrace with one hand, and with the other he waved his wand, conjuring blankets out of thin air, which positioned themselves on the floor.

Snape pushed the girl backwards onto the blankets, and she lay there all but naked gazing up at where her teacher was knelt. Slowly he lowered his body, so that he lay on his side next to her. He stroked her face, and kissed her passionately, holding her body, feeling the warmth of her skin through his robes. His hand continued to stroke and grasp her face for a few minutes, before he let it wander down her body.

As his fingertips reached the edge of knickers, she shuddered, but he continued to kiss her and hold her, letting his hand rest until she became comfortable again. Then he let his fingers lift the lacy seam, and slip under the material. He could feel the warmth, and the moisture. Bit by bit, his fingers crept closer to her entrance. He gently touched the hair that covered her area, feeling the effect that his touch had on her. He felt her body tremble, and her breathing became more intense still. His fingers reached the little bud on the top of her entrance, and he rubbed the little spot with his fingers. She moaned, and he felt her body stiffen.

Something seemed to awaken in her, she kissed him back with such force, such passion, it surprised him, but he was able to equal her back. He rubbed her, and she writhed with pleasure. Often, he let his fingers plunge into the soft flesh of her entrance, and she moaned, louder now. She was close, and he knew it.

She didn't understand what was happened, what he was doing. She could feel her body getting hotter, as he caressed her loins. She felt excited, desperately wanting him. She panted, as her body shook with delight. She moaned a sigh of intense pleasure, and felt herself come. She felt his body pressed against hers, and felt something grow, larger and larger against her leg. It came from his loins. She wanted to touch it, to grab it, to hold it, but she didn't know how.

Snape knew he had succeeded in bringing her to her climax, but now it was his turn. He tore her knickers from her body, and Parvati looked up at him, startled. With another wave of his wand, his own clothing disappeared. His body wasn't what she had expected. His sallow skin was muscular, and gleamed in the torchlight. His manhood stood erect, large and proud, against a forest of thick, curly hair. She gazed at his nakedness. Her eyes keenly consuming the exposed man before her.

She knew what was going to happen next. She often heard the whispered conversations of the older girls in the common room. Yet, she wasn't afraid. She wanted him to be inside her. She wanted to experience the physical side of love. She was ready.

Pulling his body on top of her she opened her legs, and wrapped them around his back. She felt the pressure from his penis on her opening, and it made her shake with excitement. He kissed her then, straight away his tongue moved in, massaging her mouth. After a moment or two, he gently pushed at her entrance, and bit by bit; he slid himself into her body. He felt her body stiffen beneath him, and fingernails dug into his flesh, as she gasped with the pain.

Slowly he continued to move himself in and out of her body, until her grip on his skin loosened, and he felt her body begin to relax again, as she began to enjoy the sensation of sex. Seeing this as a sign to continue, he thrust himself harder and faster into her body, and she reciprocated, pushing her pelvis forward to meet his thrusts. His breathing became heavier, and more laboured. Sweat poured down his back. Small droplets fell from his forehead onto her glistening body.

Suddenly he groaned, and his body shook, and she felt his liquid flood her body, as he lay his head down, stroking her raven black hair with one hand. Parvati lay still, with Snape on top of her, still inside her. She sighed with a mixture of relief and pleasure, and kissed his head. She wasn't a virgin any longer.


	3. The List

**Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.**

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Chapter 3 – The List**

Snape shook his head, removing the memories that had surfaced there, and looked back at the girl lain across his bed, still fast asleep.

"Well she should be," thought Snape bitterly.

After their activites in the dungeon, Snape had forced the Parvati to drink a contraceptive potion _īnfāns nullus_, while the pitiful creature crawled naked around his feet as he dressed, begging him not to give it to her. She loved him, she wanted to carry his child –but he knew it was just the original potion he had given talking.

He had concocted it himself, it was like a love potion, but also a passion potion making the drinker, blind with lust for whoever they first saw. It also wiped out any recollections of the night's events from the girl's head, so in the morning when she awoke, all they would feel was a bit of pain, where she had been broken, but the girl wouldn't actually be aware of what had happened. It was clever. He was clever, and he grinned to himself.

Snape had then given the girl a sleeping potion, that would last but a few hours.

The bell rang out from it's tower, echoing around the mountains, signalling one in the morning. Parvati stirred in her sleep. Snape turned to his wardrobe and dressed quickly in his customary black robes. Time was getting on, he shouldn't have mulled over his thoughts for so long. He picked up his wand from the side table, and motioned in the air with it. The bed sheets rolled themselves off Parvati's body, leaving her body naked and exposed. Snape glimpsed at the sight, curled his lip with disgust and waved his wand again. Parvati's clothing sprang from the floor and onto her body, covering her skin. Her raven hair that scattered itself on the satin pillows, positioned itself into a long plait down one side of her face, complete with a pearl hair clip at the end.

Snape gathered the girl up roughly into his arms, and she moaned in her sleep. Turning he left his room, and swept down the dark Hogwarts corridors, and up the stone staircases before reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady, who lay slumped in a drunken stupor on the floor of her painting, snoring loudly. Here, Snape dropped the girl, who promptly curled into a ball, and continued to sleep, blissfully unaware of what she had been through.

Snape nudged her body with the toe of his boot, and stalked away. Another conquest.

In minutes, he had returned to his room, and quickly stripped off and got into the shower. He sighed peacefully, as the hot water ran down his uncovered body, washing his away sins of the night. He soaped his body, scrubbing at his skin to rid himself of the stale smell of sex, and the touch of the girl. He hated what he had done, but it was an addiction. A sick, perverted addiction that he had to satisfy. His loins cried out for pure, female girls, untouched by anyone until him, and he would take them with his body, but with only a cold, icy feeling in his heart. There was no love involved.

He often wondered why he desired them so, but he didn't need to wonder really. He knew the answer to that question. He always had known it, but he still couldn't stop. Nothing could fulfil his insatiable, unquenchable craving for virgins. He shivered at the thought, and began to feel aroused at the memory of the night's session.

He turned the shower on cold, to bring himself out of his thoughts. Once satisfied, he dried his body vigorously, and got into his bed, slipping under the satin covers. He sighed with the comfort. The fabric felt cool and soft against his skin. He reached out a hand to open the drawer in the side table. He scuffled around in the back, before pulling out a lengthy, yellowing piece of parchment. He had had this since he had begun teaching at Hogwarts, which was more years ago then he cared to remember.

Each year, he selected eight girls as they entered their first year, as they walked into the Great Hall, and listened to the song of the Sorting Hat for the first time. He watched their confused, befuddled, scared faces, and chose the eight girls. They didn't have to be intelligent, or pretty, and he didn't care which house they were in. He just wanted to own them. He wanted to take that special thing away from them in the fifth year. That one thing that was so unique, that once it was gone, it would be lost forever.

He gazed at the list, and put a tick next to Parvati's name. His eyes wandered over this year's list. Seven girls had already been completed.

He muttered the names to himself, "Pansy Parkinson, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, Padma Patil, Lavender Brown, Millicent Bulstrode…"

He broke off and shuddered at the thought. That was one he wouldn't mind forgetting.

"Parvati,…and now".

He smirked to himself as he saw the next name on the list. This one was going to be interesting. Perhaps even challenging. He smirked again. He liked a challenge…


	4. Lepidium Meyenii

**Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.**

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**Chapter 4 – Lepidium Meyenii**

Monday morning started like any other for Professor Snape. He rose at six o'clock, showered, dressed, and went for a stroll round the casktle grounds after enjoying a hearty breakfast. He enjoyed these walks, and afterwards he felt much more refreshed and ready for whatever the day held.

The crisp Scottish air was nature's remedy to a head, fuzzy from sleep. Any cobwebs in his head were blown away. The grass was still damp, from the night's rain, and his cloak became heavy and muddy around the hem. The sky was a pale peach, as it was still early and the sun was attempting to rise. Newly formed wisps of cloud littered the air above his head. The cool wind rippled the surface of the loch, as a long, purple tentacle stretched out of the water, snatching an unsuspecting kestrel from the air, and dragging it back into the watery depths. The mountains in the distance were still shrouded in the mist of the night, looking eerie and uninviting.

It was here that Snape was headed today. He looked furtively behind him, before skirting around the southern edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was about a four-mile walk over to the mountains, so Snape only went when it was necessary. He was in the peak of physical condition, so the distance didn't trouble his limbs. His worry was that he would be caught. Not that he was doing anything wrong. No one could tell him not to go, but he was a private person, and kept himself to himself. He preferred it that people didn't know he visited the mountains.

About forty-five minutes later he reached the base of the mountains. Vertical granite cliffs loomed in front of him, metres from his face. Dense mist and dark clouds obscured the top. It was a formidable sight. Dark ledges sprung out from the rock, here and there, but each no more than a few inches wide. Definitely not a substantial size for a fully-grown adult to stand on. Not that Snape was going to stand on them as he climbed; he was a wizard after all.

Muttering an incantation under his breath, he levitated his body up into the air. Cold air whistled past his cheeks, as he climbed higher and higher. The mist enveloped his body in moisture, drenching his clothing, and he shivered with the cold, but still he continued. Below him, the ground moved further and further out of sight, until it completely disappeared under a blanket of cloud.

The temperature began to drop further still, but presently Snape's speed began to decrease. As he neared a small cave, he alighted and stepped on to the stone floor, before quickly crouching down, to avoid knocking his head on the low ceiling.

Crawling along the floor, he edged his way deeper into the cave. It was a tight fit, and Snape had to keep his head down, his nose almost scraping along the ground. After squeezing his body through the tunnel for a good five minutes, the passageway suddenly opened up into a small grotto. It wasn't big, but it was big enough for Snape to stand comfortably.

Small shafts of light rained down the roof, illuminating small patches of the ground, where some plants sporadically grew on the little nutrients that the cave provided, and the minimal light that they managed to receive. The plants were embedded into cracks in the rock, where they had found soil to enable them to take root. They were green, and low-lying, with only the leaves, that resembled a carrot's, showing above the soil.

Snape removed a small, cloth bag from a pocket in his robes, and knelt down on the floor. He began to pull up a number of the small plants. They put up little struggle. The roots of the plant were a fushia pink, and were thick. Snape smiled to himself. "A good harvest", he thought. Each time he pulled up a plant he placed in into the small sack, and soon it was filled. Satisfied with his collection, he stood up. Wiping his hands on his robes, he put the bag, containing its precious cargo, back into his pocket.

Snape then went back on his hands and knees, and crawled out of the cave and along the tunnel to its entrance. Here he rose, jumped into the air, and as he fell he murmured a spell, so that he was able to control his descent. Upon reaching the bottom of the cliff, he set off at a brisk pace towards the castle.

The walk back was uneventful. He passed no one, and heard no sound except the squelching of his feet though the mud, and the occasional breaking of a twig underfoot.

As he neared the castle entrance, he stopped for a moment behind some trees on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Here, he pushed the little bag deeper into his pocket, and whispered a charm that dried off his robes, and removed the mud from the bottom. Assured that he was respectable, he continued on towards the large oaken doors. He glanced upwards at the magnificent stone structure, as the gargoyles glared menacingly down. Pushing the door open, he swept ferociously past a group of second years on their way down to the greenhouses.

Snape heard the castle bell strike for quarter to nine. Cursing, he quickened his pace and hurried to his dungeon. Throwing open his own personal potion's cupboard, he retrieved a glass jar from the back, and thrust the contents of the bag into it. Forcing the lid down, and screwing the lid on tightly, he conjured a label out of the air, which read:- _Lepidium meyenii_.

The bell struck nine, and in walked his class of fifth years, as shoved the jar to the back of the cupboard again.

"Take your seats," he snapped as the last student entered the room, "And we'll begin".

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For those interested, I didn't invent the name of the plant. Lepidium meyenii (or maca) is a herb that is believed to have aphrodisiac qualities. It is originally from in the Peruvian mountains, but for the purpose of my story I moved it to Scotland, but still growing in the same harsh conditions. Incidentally, it's roots are butterscotch flavoured, hence the flavour of the "tea" in Chapter 1.

Also thank you to laxgal042 for her reviews. You're the only one so far, and I really appreciate your comments.


	5. Feeling Nervous?

**Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.**

Chapter 5 – Feeling Nervous? 

The class looked warily at the Potions master, attempting to assess his mood. Not that there was ever a lot of difference in it. There was nasty Snape and an even nastier Snape. The students hurriedly took their places before their pewter cauldrons, four to each bench, and removed their copy of Magical Drafts and Potions from their bags.

Snape watched them; his eyes lingered for a moment on Hermione Granger. Her chestnut hair had lost some of its bushiness, and was looking sleeker than normal. She moved her hand, tucking a stray strand behind her ear, and Snape saw the stud in her ear lobe glimmer in the torchlight. Sensing someone watching her, she glanced upwards, briefly catching his eye, before he abruptly turned his head in the other direction.

"Today," announced Snape suddenly, causing some of the more nervous members of the group to jump.

Indeed, Neville was so startled by the sharpness of his voice that he toppled backwards of his stool. In the back row, the Slytherins snickered behind their hands. Hermione gave Neville a sympathetic look. Snape glared at him, as he emerged red-faced from the floor, and took his seat again.

"10 points from Gryffindor for foolishness, and disrupting my lesson."

The Slytherins laughed harder, as Neville shrunk lower in his seat, embarrassed.

"Today, we will be concocting a more complex potion than usual. This potion is closer to the standard of N.E.W.T potions that are studied in the sixth and seventh years. Failure to complete today's task will result in the realisation that you are not up to the standard that I will accept in my classes next year. Only students receiving an Outstanding in their O.W.Ls will be able to continue their Potions lessons."

Snape eyed the class, "And I expect that that will be very few of you."

Hermione sat bolt upright in her seat. She wanted to be one of those few. As far as she was concerned Hermione Granger never failed anything. She knew that she was more than capable of completing any task that Snape threw at her. Indeed, in her second year had she not successfully produced a Polyjuice Potion, which was far beyond N.E.W.T level? Although there had been a slight mishap on her part, using cat hair instead of human, but that didn't mean there was anything wrong with her potion-making skills.

The rest of the class shuffled uncomfortably in their seats. Their eyes wandered over the dark, stone walls dripping with water in places where various lichens grew. The dancing flames in the torch bracket drew their attention, mesmerising them. Some even dared to glance at the numerous jars on display behind his desk. Jar upon jar, upon jar. A rainbow of different coloured liquids, each holding something even fouler than the one before. Eyeballs bobbed on the surface, looking at, but without seeing the students. A disfigured hand, covered in hair with talons was curled into a fist. The claws puncturing the skin. One liquid seemed to pulse with light and lit up the containers around it. The last vial was small, in comparison. The fluid it contained was dark, and a deep crimson. No one wanted to know how that particular product had been obtained. The class looked everywhere, except at the Potions Master.

"The potion we will be producing today will be _Diffīdentīa Expellere_," said Snape carefully, "can anyone tell me what it is used for?"

Hermione's eager hand shot up into the air. Harry and Ron inwardly groaned, at her usual display of keenness. Snape saw.

"Miss Granger?"

"_Diffīdentīa _– _Expellere _– is – a – potion – that – originates – from – Ancient – Rome, - and – is – relied – on - in – modern – medicine – to – temporarily – banish – nervousness – from – the – drinker - before – major – surgery, - so – that – the – heart – rate – and – blood – pressure – can – be – more – easily – controlled. – It – has – to – be – produced – specific – to – each – drinker – so – some – of – the - drinker's – blood – must – present – in – it. – It has – to – be – mixed – in – the – correct – way – with – the - correct – concentrations – of – ingredients – or – it – becomes – toxic." said Hermione, breathlessly.

"Correct Miss Granger. Take 5 points for Gryffindor."

Harry and Ron looked at each other. Not only had Snape chosen Hermione straight away (usually he drew it out), but he awarded her points as well! Ron raised his eyebrows, and Harry shrugged. The rest of the class looked equally bemused. Malfoy fumed in the back row, muttering darkly under his breath. Hermione's surprised face was quickly replaced with a beaming smile. She'd never been awarded points from Snape before.

Snape ignored the class' reactions, oblivious to their surprise.

"As Miss Granger correctly said, today we will be making a potion to banish nervousness. A potion I'm sure that will undoubtedly come in useful to you in life, if brewed correctly. At the end of the lesson, you will hand in a sample of your potion for assessment. If it has been brewed correctly, I will return it to you next week. The blood that you must provide is the last ingredient. A drop is sufficient. I don't want students bleeding to death in my classroom. It's makes too much of a mess. The method is on the board. You have one hour."

Snape waved his wand, and the chalk moved across the board, leaving words behind it, wherever it travelled.

_Diffīdentīa Expellere_

_Pour one pint of water into the cauldron, and bring to the boil._

_Take 23 dried leaves of Scutellaria Lateriflora, and grind into a fine powder._

_Sprinkle the powder, three times clockwise around the cauldron._

_The solution should now have turned into a thick, black substance, and should be giving off dark green fumes._

_Take the juice from one pomegranate, and pour in whilst stirring anticlockwise with a metal rod._

_Leave to boil for 11 and a half minutes._

_The mixture should now turn a pale orange colour, and be producing a sweet smell._

_Take a mass of 86g petals from Passiflora Incarnata, and add 3 drops of salamander saliva._

_Mix into a pulp._

_Form the pulp into a ball, and drop into the centre of the potion._

_The liquid should whistle, and briefly turn a light green before turning a shade of fushia._

_Add 7 drops of lavender oil._

_Cut 2 hairs from a Puffskein, into 1 cm lengths, and add._

_Stir the potion 17 times clockwise, and a further 3 times anticlockwise. Repeat this 6 times._

_Leave to simmer for 14 minutes._

_The potion should now be a pale yellow colour, and smell strongly of a hay meadow._

_Add one drop of blood._

_The potion should now turn a pale, iridescent blue, with swirls of cream. It has a characteristic smell of lavender._

During the next hour the students worked feverishly. Sweat beads glistened on their foreheads, as they stirred, chopped and ground their potion. None of them wanting to feel Snape's wrath should they fail.

Snape swept between the rows of his pupils, criticising their poor potion-making skills. Even the Slytherins who usually fared better in terms of Snape's words were showed no mercy, when it came to their techniques and the varying colours of solution.

When the hour was up, each student filled a crystal vial with a sample from his or her cauldron.

Neville's was a stormy grey, and smelt oddly of cat vomit. Ron's was a luminous green solid, and seemed to be growing. Harry's was …well at least it was a shade of blue. But Hermione's was perfect. It seemed to shine in the light, and just looking at it felt comforting.

As she handed her vial to Snape, he caught her eye and smiled at her. Not a sneer, or a smirk, but a smile. Now Hermione was truly shocked. Why was he being pleasant?


	6. Just a Smile

**Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.**

A big, bigthank you to everyone that has reviewed so far. This chapter's a bit shorter than the others because I was a bit stuck on what to write. I know how it's going to end now, and I can't wait to write it, but I've got to get there first, so you'll just have to be patient :) But please stick with it, and enjoy...

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**Chapter 6 – Just a Smile**

Snape remained seated behind his desk, as the class filed out the dungeon one-by-one. They moved quickly, eager to be out of sight of the Potions Master. "No doubt wanting to be up to no good," he thought to himself. He barely moved a muscle, but just remained motionless, his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes watched the last student, who was gathering her belongings together.

Harry and Ron were amongst the last to leave. They hovered around the door, avoiding looking at Snape, as they waiting for Hermione who was taking an unusually long time to put her things back into her satchel. Tucking her notes in between the pages of the leather-bound book, and sliding it into the bag, she fastened the buckles and hoisted it onto her shoulder.

"Come on 'Mione," came an irritated voice from the doorway.

"Coming," came the reply.

Hermione inclined her head upwards for a moment, and met the gaze of the Professor who was watching her so intently. Her heart seemed to skip a beat. Why was he staring at her? She moved her hand over her hair in an attempt to smooth it, conscious of its bushiness, and she smiled. Not a grin, or a twitch at the corners of her mouth. But a smile, full of warmth, that lit up her face.

Snape seeing her reaction, flinched in surprise. Blinking his eyes, he looked again, and she was still smiling. Nervously, he smiled back, and a strange feeling of … of ... he didn't know what…but it flooded through his body, making him smile more.

"Hermione!"

"Yeh..sorry," she answered breaking her gaze, and rushing for the door.

The three students walked away and out of the door, but not before Hermione had turned around to see Snape still with his eyes transfixed on her, with a smile playing across his lips. She smiled back, and left.

Snape was left alone with his thoughts in the cold, dark dungeon. He remained still for a few minutes, contemplating what had happened. The footsteps of the students sounded up the stairs, getting fainter and fainter. The steady echo of water dripping went round the room. Torches crackled in their brackets on the walls, emitting fiery sparks which danced together in the air, while they fell, twirling, to the ground, wiping themselves out.

He'd done what he'd done with the others. "The preliminary step". Smiling, being kind and watching them. So why did he feel different? What was this sensation that flickered faintly inside him? Warming his body and soul? He'd never felt like this before. He found himself thinking about her, the way she'd smiled at him. He couldn't remember a student ever smiling at him? Grimacing? Yes. Crying? Yes. Scowling? Definitely, but smiling? This was something new. It wasn't forced either. He knew a forced smile when he saw one.

As a child, and a young man, no one had smiled at him and actually meant it. They laughed at him. They'd smiled then, but it wasn't with compassion. It was a sneer, mocking him. Him, Severus Snape. The boy with sallow skin, a hooked nose, greasy hair, and no friends. The outsider. The loner. He couldn't think of a time when anyone had shown him genuine kindness, besides Dumbledore when he had offered him a job, and forgiven him for his past mistakes. But then Dumbledore was kind to everyone, one of those irksome, benevolent characters, so his displays of kind-heartedness meant little to Snape.

Only once had he believed someone to like him for who he was …

Snape shook his head. " I was wrong," he muttered, "Very wrong."

Snape held his head in his trembling hands and felt overcome with a sense of pity for himself. Pity for the man he was today. Man! He chuckled sarcastically to himself. Could he really call himself that?

Reaching down to his left, he seized a brass handle embedded in the side of the desk and pulled hard. Inside the drawer were a variety of objects. A set of gobstones that he confiscated from some third years, packets of Drooble's Bubble Gum, vials (both empty and filled), various pieces of parchment, a bottle of ink, some quills, and right at the back a bottle. He grabbed the bottle, and conjured a glass form the air. Setting the three-quarters full bottle of Firewhiskey down, he poured himself a large shot, and knocked it back. He winced as it hit his stomach, but as the burning sensation subsided, he helped himself to another.

It was 10 o'clock in the morning.

Outside the sun shone in the aquamarine sky. Birds glided in the air, dipping over and under the clouds that floated high above the countryside. A slight breeze flowed through the trees, causing the branches to wave, and cascades of pink and white blossom to shower down on the grasses and wild flowers that grew below. Children laughed on their way to classes, but Snape, unaware of all this, sat slumped in his chair. Lost in the memories of his past, and silently he wept.


	7. Getting Back to Normal

**Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.**

Thanks to everyone that's reviewed so far - especially laxgal042, TCFellows and T.C.Vincent who have been doing so throughout.

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**Chapter 7 - Getting Back to Normal**

Some time later, perhaps a couple of hours, perhaps more, Snape came to his senses. The bottle lay on its side on the desk, empty. The beaker lay shattered on the stone tiles. Tiny shards of glass glittered threateningly. Their sharp edges pointing skywards. Snape had been lying with his head upon his hands; face down on the oaken surface. One cheek was etched with the grain of the wood. His eyes were red and puffy. His face was even paler than normal. His brain beat a never-ending rhythm inside his head, pulsing with pain. He groaned and sat up stiffly.

Groggily he looked around. Nothing had changed. The students' desks remained empty. The icy water continued to run down the walls in the corners, forming murky pools on the uneven ground. The fires were still burning, casting a gloomy glow round the dank room. He heard the scuffling of rats from somewhere nearby. He groaned again.

Resting his hands on the desk, he manoeuvred his body up from the chair, and staggered over to the gargoyle's head on the wall. Stooping slightly, he pushed its nose and it gave a dry grating sound. Moments later a stream of freezing water fell from its grotesque mouth. Snape cupped his hands, and splashed the cool water onto his face. It stung his eyes, but he persevered and soon he began to feel the effect of its cool relief. Shaking his head violently from side-to-side, he shook off the excess water sending the spray flying across the room.

He stood up, and headed to his potions cabinet. Removing a pain-relieving tonic from the shelf, he threw the violet liquid down his throat. Instantly, the pain in his head receded. Glancing at his watch, he saw the hands were coming up to lunchtime. Relived, he smiled. At least he hadn't been like that when he was needed to teach. At least he'd only had that one lesson that morning. Blessing those few lucky stars that he had left, he straightened his robes and headed out the dungeon, up the stone steps and towards the Great Hall. His stomach grumbled with hunger.

Upon reaching the Hall, he went up to take his place at the High Table. Students milled around. Hovering around the tables, gossiping with one another, eating and drinking. Dumbledore was seated already and in conversation with Professor Flitwick, who as usual was seated on a pile of numerous cushions so that he could reach the table. Both nodded their heads at Serverus to acknowledge his presence.

Snape took his seat, and helped himself to a goblet of fresh pumpkin juice. It was sweet, and refreshing, making his taste buds tingle. "Dragon steak, medium rare," he muttered at the golden plate before him.

A steak appeared surrounded by mounds of soft mashed potato and a variety of vegetables, complete with a generous helping of gravy. Snape took up his knife and fork, and cut himself a slice of the steak, before lifting it to his mouth. As he was about to bite down, he saw her.

Hermione had just entered the Hall, chatting with Harry and Ron. Snape sat with his mouth slightly open mid-chew. His eyes followed each movement she made. He hair bounced from side-to-side as she walked, catching the light that radiated from the ceiling above. Her cheeks glowed pink, and her lips were curled back into a smile. He saw the trio take their places at the Gryffindor table. Ron put his hand on the small of Hermione's back to assist.

Snape's mouth twitched violently when he saw this, and he gritted his teeth. "Don't touch her!" he thought to himself.

Hermione turned to Ron, pushed his hand away and scolded him. Ron scowled. Snape smirked. "Good girl."

He watched the boys tuck into their food, ravenous with hunger. Hermione shook her head in disgust, and daintily picked up her knife and fork, and began to eat. Snape watched her intently. Following her movements as she raised the cutlery laden with food to her mouth, before returning it empty to her plate.

She paused thoughtfully while chewing on a mouthful, and looked up to see the Potions Master's eyes fixed on her. She looked around, to see if he was looking at someone else, but no, he was watching her. She blushed, and feeling uncomfortable hastily went back to eating her meal, avoiding his gaze.

Snape saw all this and cursed himself. What was he doing looking at her every move? He should be planning how he was going to do it. He hadn't even thought about he'd be able to drug her. It wasn't like Hermione Granger was every going to get a detention! He'd have to be a bit more cunning then that. But that shouldn't be a problem, he was Professor Serverus Snape, and he hadn't been put in Slytherin for nothing.

After his lunch, he swept back down to his classroom, ready to teach the afternoons lessons. He endured two hours teaching a group of first years, frightening one little girl into hysterics. He gave out three detentions for a variety of misdemeanours, and snapped at the students a bit more. Another hour with his sixth year N.E.W.T. class, followed by an hour with the third years, who really pushed his temper to the limit. The vein in his neck throbbed venomously.

Afterwards, he felt much more like his old self. Unnatural thoughts linked to Hermione had been pushed to the back of his mind, and he was ready to concentrate on the task in hand.

Following a brief dinner, he returned to his dungeon and spent the next four hours next to a burning cauldron. Powerful fumes filled the room, which clogged his mind with a dense fog, making him feel drowsy. Sparks flew from the surface of the liquid, changing colour every few minutes. He chopped, boiled, stirred, sliced, drained, poured, mixed and cooled the potion at different intervals. Before finally adding the fuchsia roots from the Lepidium Meyenii, and leaving the cauldron to simmer.

The solution left was enough to fill six glass vials with the creamy coloured liquid, which tasted of butterscotch.

Yawning, Snape looked at the time. It was nearing midnight. Storing the bottles carefully at the back of his cupboard, he made his way to his chambers. He showered, and climbed into bed. Extinguishing the light with his wand, he soon fell into an exhausted sleep.


	8. Waking Sleep

**Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.**

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**Chapter 8- Waking Sleep**

_His eyes stung. He rubbed them with his fists, making them sting more. Eventually, he removed the offending particle with the tip of a long, thin narrow finger, and wiped it across his torso._

_Opening his eyes, he looked around. He was stood in the middle of nowhere. All he could see was mud. An endless ocean of mud. He turned frantically on the spot, looking for something, anything other than mud. _

_Nothing – just mud. Brown, sticky mud. He shuffled his feet, attempting to free them. They sucked and squelched,but he managed to lift outone sodden foot, and place it down in front of him. One foot at a time, he walked. _

_His exact direction was unknown. It was just forwards. Step-by-step. _

_After a time, he saw something catch the light. The light? There was no light, but it wasn't dark. Puzzled, he saw the thing shine in the distance, and continued towards it. _

_He came upon a pool of water, and peered in. It was muddy, like everything else. It was thick, and tinged green. Uninviting, unwelcoming. A solitary lily floated in the centre. It's ivory petals curled away in disgust from the water. He looked around and saw a fishing net by the pool, but as he watched, it slipped over the mud disappearing into the murky depths, never to resurface._

_He kept walking after this. Step-by-step._

_A sound in the air. He stopped, feeling his feet sink into the mud, which oozed between his toes._

"_What was that sound?"_

_He listened again." A bird?"_

_Still listening. "Yes, a bird."_

_He followed the sound, which perforated the silence of the world around him._

_His eyes saw a shape on the horizon. A tall, broad shape rising from the mud._

_He ambled towards it. With each movement he made he became more encased in the mud. It clung to the bare skin of his legs. It splashed up his back, splattering his dressing gown with brown droplets. Sweat dribbled down his forehead. He felt the heat caused by his exertions. But he had to get there. Something inside him told him that he did._

_The tree loomed closer and closer. The birdsong got louder. Shrill, and screeching inside his brain. He covered his ears trying to block the piercing sound, but it got louder still. He couldn't stop moving, his legs knew where they were going._

_He reached the tree. A yew tree, and on the upper most branch sat the blackbird, watching him with beady eyes. Still screaming._

_He wandered around the tree, gazing at the branches adorned with leaves. His hands caressed the trunk. He followed it round and round. Step-by-step._

_Suddenly he stumbled, and fell face down into the mud. He raised his head, and there in the mud was a skull._

_Staring at him, with hollow sockets. He reached out a hand and stroked the bone. Grey with age, and rough. He felt it shudder under his touch. Withdrawing his hand sharply, the skull erupted. Pouring out of the sockets, the yellowed, slimy bodies of thousands and millions of maggots. They covered his body, wriggling into the orifices on his face._

"Aaaaahhhhhhh!"

He sat bolt upright in bed. Sweat flowed from his pores, drenching his satin sheets. His body shook with terror. He knew it was just a dream, a nightmare, but he understood what it meant, and he trembled even more.

He didn't sleep again that night. He was still awake, clutching the sweat soaked blankets when the cock crowed that morning.


	9. Seeing the Future

**Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.**

**I'm sorry its taken so long to write. I've been really busy at uni, and I've had servere writer's block. But then tonight I just thought I'd have a go, and it just came to me. Enjoy :)**

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**Chapter 9 – Seeing the Future**

Snape eventually rose about half 8 that morning. As he made his bed, he shivered, although he was not cold. The early morning sun shone in the cloudless sky. Larks called to each other from tree to tree. The distinct chatter of childish voices fluttered up from the rooms below his tower. Walking over to the window he looked out, admiring the sight that such a peaceful morning could appear after such a frightful night. He shivered again at the mere memory of his nightmare. If only it had just been a dream. But it wasn't. Ever since he'd been a child, his dreams had foretold what was to happen. He had tried to block them out, after what had happened.

He was seven years old, and awoke screaming from a terror in the night. The screams echoed through the stone rooms of the house that he shared with his parents. He had dreamt that he was running. He didn't know what from, but he was afraid. He stumbled over his own feet, and fell face down in the dirt. A single rose grew from the ground. Snape had reached out a finger to stroke a single silky petal. Barely a second passed after his touch, before the rose withered, turned black and fell to the ground as a pile of ash. Then he'd seen his mother's body. Still and lifeless. He'd told his parents in the morning, but they thought nothing of it. That day Snape had researched his dream, which represented the death of a loved one.

The hours passed by, and as nightfall came, Snape left his room, and went down to dinner. There he waited beside his father for his mothers return. But she never came back. The next morning her body had been found. Her cause of death was unknown. Serverus' father had blamed him, and they never exchanged another word.

Snape quivered at the memory. Fearful of his own mind. After he had showered and dressed, he chose not to go to the Great Hall for breakfast, and excused himself with thoughts that he wouldn't be missed.

As he cleaned his teeth, his throat felt dry, so he quenched his thirst with water from the tap. He rubbed his throat, feeling his swollen glands. He examined his face in the mirror. He looked paler than normal, the bags under his eyes even more pronounced than usual. He told himself that it was just lack of sleep that had made him feel ill. Nothing else, and pushing his darkest fears to the back mind he stepped out of his room, and made his way down to the dungeon.

The corridors were packed full of students scurrying to lessons. Pushing and shoving against one another in a rush not to be late. Snape, however, was given a wide berth. People looked warily at him, before moving to the other side of the corridor. Snape continued to sweep by, ignoring the faces that stared as he passed.

Upon reaching his classroom, he glimpsed his reflection in a window. His cheekbones stuck out from his thin, hollow face. His dark eyes seemed to sink deep into his complexion. Ebony locks of hair circled his face. Reaching up his hand, he stroked his face, shuddering under the touch of his own flesh. As he stared at himself, he could see the shadow of sickness creeping up behind him, like a thief in the night. For almost twenty-three years he had known what was to come. Constantly he denied it to himself. Again, and again. He wanted to believe that it would be alright, but he knew it wouldn't be. Deep down he knew that what would happen, would happen, and would happen soon.


	10. Extension

**Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.**

**Big apologies to people that have been waiting for the next chapter. It's been too long. It started with a bitof writer's block, then I had exams so its been a bit of a nightmare. But I'm back on track and hopefully the pace of the story will pick up soon.**

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews so far. Keep doing it :)**

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Chapter 10 - Extension**

Upon reaching the entrance to the dungeon, Snape swept past the crowd of fifth years who cluttered the doorway, waiting to be allowed entry, and went to stand behind his desk, glaring at his students. He watched the students as they bustled in, desperate not to be the last to take their seat, and so earn Snape's disapproval. They eyed him carefully, aware that he had yet to speak a word, which suggested his mood was more sinister than normal. They knew they were in for a torturous hour's work.

When the noise of scraping stools, and the rustling of pages had subsided, Snape cleared his throat, and with a swift flick of his wand, a pile of parchment appeared upon his desk. "These," he said, indicating the scripts, "are your attempts at the essay I set you on the origin and uses of the Bubbling Broth. Every student's script, bar one, was either brief, lacking in information, poorly constructed, badly written or all of the afore mentioned criteria."

He paused menacingly. "Granger!" muttered Draco to Crabbe.

"Malfoy!" snapped Snape," Your paper was not the exception, so I suggest it would be wise if you learnt to keep that mouth of yours closed, and to listen more carefully in lessons. I sure your father would be appalled to hear his son was incapable of passing his OWL Potions. Don't you think?"

Draco didn't answer, but shrunk down in his seat, his face red with shame. Snape remained with his eyes fixed on him for a moment or two longer, before waving his wand, sending the parchments flying back to their respective writers. Hermione looked down at her paper to see a bright red O penned in the top left corner. She glanced upwards and caught the smallest smile upon the Potions Master's face. She quickly went back to her paper, as a rosy flush spread across her cheeks.

Snape waited a second while the class assessed their mark, grumbling to themselves, and then announced that the lesson would involve dictation and note-taking to prepare them for the forthcoming exams. His eyes floated over the inwardly groaning faces of the disgruntled class, before coming to rest on the always-eager Hermione. Inside his mind, he smiled as he saw the attentive look upon her face, as she peered up at him. Her chin resting on her clasped hands.

And so the lesson began. Despite the class' reluctance, each and every student began taking copious notes. They knew that Snape was the kind of man who didn't like to waste his words, or his time. So the chance of this lesson's work appearing in the forthcoming examinations was high.

Time passed, and still the dictation continued. The students' wrists ached, but they couldn't stop writing. Harry and Ron, along with most other members of the class, shot Snape the dirtiest of looks between paragraphs. "How long was he going to make them write for?"

Snape spoke precisely, clipping the ends of his words sharply, emphasising their importance. He didn't work from lesson plans as many teachers chose to do. He'd been here a long time and knew the syllabus like the back of his hand. He enjoyed his profession immensely. He liked the feeling of superiority, feeling far above the students. He enjoyed sharing his knowledge, and felt great pleasure when someone was keen enough to take an actual interest in his subject, rather than just dutifully going through the motions. Someone like Hermione Granger. He smiled to himself, as he paused in his speech to allow the students to catch up with him. Why did her name keep coming into his head? He was behind with his plans. The list beckoned to him to finish this year's worth.

How? That was the question that frustrated him. Howling round and round his mind. How? An exceptionally bright student, she doesn't put a toe out of line. Never hands her work in late. Always a high standard. Always trying to do better, improve beyond her wildest dreams. Be the best…

His eyes glanced down and he read the heading on a piece of parchment that lay on his desk. He smirked. The answer lay right there in front of him. "Extension," he breathed.

He looked back up at his class, as they watched him, waiting for his next words. They needn't have bothered. The school bell clanged up in the tallest tower of Hogwarts, and it's sound echoed around the castle. "Class dismissed," he shouted, and with more scraping of chairs, the pupils hurried out, ready for their break.

Snape sat down in his chair, letting his idea surface and collect, until it lay there, glistening, beautiful and complete. "Stage 1," he murmured to himself.

A draught flew into the dungeon, as the classroom door slammed shut. Snape shivered, and pulled his cloak more tightly around his thin frame. Was it him or was it getting colder? He took up a striking peacock feather quill, and filled in the form that lay on his desk. It only required names, and his signature. He smiled at his brilliance. "Names of students to be put forward for the OWL Potions Extension Paper," he said aloud to himself.

Smiling again, he wrote down Hermione's name, and signed his own underneath.

Laying his quill down, he glimpsed the calendar on the wall. He'd have to be quick; there wasn't much time before the examinations or before…

A dark shadow loomed in the not too distant future. A shadow that no amount of light cast by anyone's spirit could frighten away.


	11. Spoiled Fun

**Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.**

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Chapter 11 – Spoiled Fun**

Hermione made her way down the stone staircase that led into the dungeon. It was Saturday afternoon, and the sun shone in the aquamarine sky, as it had been doing all day. Birds flitted between the trees whose branches were covered in smooth, emerald leaves and adorned with berries of unimaginable colours and variety. The lake glistened in the sunlight, and its cool waters beckoned to the students, many of whom were already paddling in the shallower parts. Even the Forbidden Forest looked almost inviting in the brightness of the day. It's vast oaks and sycamores providing welcome shade from the heat.

Hermione had spent the morning with her friends down by the lake. While she had studied, they had amused themselves with a game of rounders, until their happiness had infected her so much that she just had to join in. She soon got into the spirit of things, running and laughing along with the others.

And now her fun was spoiled.

She received an owl requesting her to be present in Snape's office at 3 o'clock precisely for a discussion about her schoolwork. At first she was merely irritated that her fun had to end so quickly, but then anxiety entered into her thoughts. Why was she required there? Her work had been nothing but exemplary, hadn't it? She racked her brains to think of something that she'd done wrong, or forgotten to do, but nothing came to mind. Resigning herself to the fact that Snape was probably in an unpleasant mood, and needed to take it out on someone, she walked towards the door of his office, and rapped her knuckles on the hard wood, blackened with age. "Enter."

She pushed open the door, and stepped into the small, stonewalled room, and saw her teacher staring at her. He sat in his chair. Wooden, but covered with worn green leather, finished with brass studs around the edges. A single torch smouldering in it's bracket illuminated his tired face. To Hermione, it looked almost grey. For a moment he seemed to her, somewhat diminished, his power and superiority escaped him. Until he scowled.

"You're late Miss Granger," he said abruptly, "Please sit down."

He gestured with his hand to the chair opposite across the desk. Obediently she sat down, holding her hands in her lap. She stared at him, defiant. She wasn't going to let him accuse her of doing something wrong when she hadn't!

With a flourish of his wand, a silver tea set appeared on his desk.

"Something to drink Miss Granger?" Snape asked pleasantly.

Hermione was aghast, at this display of generosity "Pardon Professor?"

"It's quite warm outside. Would you like a drink to refresh yourself?" repeated Snape in the same gentle tone.


	12. Tears and Smiles

**Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.**

**Next installment for those following the story. Thank you for all your reviews. I love seeing the email saying that someone has reviewed. It makes me so happy :)**

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**Chapter 12 – Tears and Smiles**

Snape watched her expression. He could see that she was confused. Torn between wanting to accept his offer as an act of kindness, and suspicion because of his change of attitude. Her eyes flickered between the tea set and the Potions Master's face.

To her, his eyes seemed to gleam with a kind of excitement, a kind of hunger. She remembered this look from a film she had watched late one night last summer. Dracula. She enjoyed watching this kind of films, just to compare the Muggle fantasies of these creatures, to what she had actually learnt at Hogwarts. He leant across his desk, edging his body slightly closer to hers. She could feel the heat from his breath, and smell the sickly odour that emitted from his mouth as he breathed. She looked him straight in the eye, noting his paler than normal complexion and the way his robes seem to hang off his shoulders, seemingly looser than before. "No thank you Professor," she replied in a clear voice.

Outwardly Snape showed no sign of surprise. Inwardly, he cursed himself for being so blazé about the operation. He had known from the beginning that Hermione would be the most difficult to entice to take a drink, that why he had left till last. The last one this year, the last one this…

"Very well Granger," said Snape sharply, "Don't expect me to offer again."

Hermione winced at the tone of his voice. She felt like she'd hurt him, by not trusting him. She now believed he'd generally offered kindness, and she had rebuked him because of his past manner. She felt guilty. She led her eyes wander down to her lap, her fingers wringing themselves furiously.

Snape, after a moment of irritation, praised himself on his brilliance of Plan B. He'd have to gain her trust first, and then offer the drink. Hermione, he now understood, was too intelligent to fall for anything so simple. He admired that quality in her, and gazed intently at the girl as she stared at her hands.

With a flick of his wand the silver tea set disappeared, and in its place lay a book. Hermione raised her eyes in surprise, and shifted in her seat to catch a glimpse of the title. Snape rested a protective hand over the cover, and smirked at the look of frustration upon Hermione's face.

"This, Miss Granger," Snape began indicating the book, " is 'Pōtiō acc Prōvectus Gēns 1'. It is the standard text used by students who sit the OWL Potions Extension paper and practical. Participating in the extension allows exceptional students to surpass their own standards, and offers them the chance to obtain a grade above their own expectations. An O+. Only students who have been recommended by the teacher are asked to sit the examination. Do you understand Miss Granger?"

Hermione paled. Her mouth open and closed like a fish, but lacked the capacity to form any word, or indeed any kind of sound whatsoever. She remained motionless, gaping at the Professor.

"I see," said Snape, mildly amused by the appearance of her face.

"I am saying, Miss Granger, that I see you as an exceptional pupil of Potions which is why I have proposed to the Headmaster that you be put forward for the examination. It'll will mean more work, and include private sessions, three nights weekly, with me."

Hermione still didn't reply.

"Perhaps Miss Granger, if you incapable of producing any indication that you actually acknowledge what I am saying, then I was wrong about you, and I will remove your application forthwith."

Hermione shook her head, and began to cry. "Do you mean it Professor? Do you really think I'm good enough?" she sobbed, looking up at him, her eyes shining with tears.

Snape was taken aback with such a display of emotion. He'd expected a gracious thank you at most, not full on waterworks. "Granger!" he shouted, the vein in his temple throbbing ominously, "Pull yourself together. Yes I do mean it. Why would I say otherwise?"

Hermione stopped weeping, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she smiled, jumped up from her seat, and threw her arms around his neck, holding him close. "Oh thank you Professor, thank you."

Fireworks exploded in Snape's chest, and he found himself smiling too, and embracing her back. He could feel the warmth of her body pressing against him. He could smell the sweetness of her perfume, and the scent of her hair. Her damp cheek was pressed against his. Bliss! He felt his arms tightening around her body, and she reciprocated the motion.

Suddenly he felt his body freeze, and in the same instant, her grip loosened. He was hugging a student. He pushed her away, and stared at her in disbelief. Hermione had the same look upon her face. Shock, which quickly turned to embarrassment. Her cheeks burned scarlet beneath his gaze.

"I…I…" she began.

"Leave now Miss Granger," snapped Snape more angrily than he had intended, "Be here next Monday, 7 o'clock sharp."

Hermione turned and fled the dungeon, holding her face in her hands. Snape watched the door that she had run through. What had just happened? He couldn't quite get his head around it. A student had just genuinely shown him affection. He had made someone smile and be happy, admittedly cry first, but still. And then he had returned her sentiments. What was that feeling that had burst alive inside his heart as she had held him? That electricity that had surged through his body? The happiness that had flooded down his limbs? Could he be developing feelings for Hermione? Mentally he told himself that he was being ridiculous. She was a student, he was a teacher. It couldn't happen, wouldn't happen. There was so many complications.

In the end he put it down to shock at her open display of emotion, but as he lay in bed that night, tossing and turning between his sheets, he couldn't help but wonder…


	13. In Her Mind

I'm really sorry if people have been waiting for this. It's been months and months, so I hope I haven put people off reading it. I've had major writer's block, and a serious lack of time. I know where I want to end up, it's just getting there.

xxxx

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Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.Chapter 13 – Inside Her Mind

Snape wasn't the only person who slept badly that night.

After fleeing the dungeon, Hermione had headed straight for, what was at times, her only sanctuary. Unlike other girls her age, who when they had a problem poured out their hearts to their closest friend, Hermione didn't. Not only was it the fact that her two best friends were male, which put her off but also that the males in question were severely lacking in the ability to deal with sensitive female issues, and also that said issues involved a professor that they both despised.

Hermione was the kind of girl who kept her problems to herself, and dealt with them by burying herself in work and books. Books were always there, at the point where you left them, everything written clearly in black and white. No complex emotions to deal with, unlike human relationships. Hermione hadn't even told Harry and Ron what had been happening at home the summer before.

On reaching the library, she sat in her usual seat by the window, covered her face with a book, and relived her memories, one of her secrets that she couldn't bring herself to tell anyone.

Ever since she was little, she could remember her parents arguing. She grew up with it as part of her life, and accepted it as normal. However, the summer before she started Hogwarts, things had changed. The arguing intensified. Her father, Thomas, had been dead set against Hermione attending the school. He had wanted his only child to follow in the family footsteps, and work as a dentist. Hermione had never wanted to be a dentist. Who'd want to look in people's mouths for a living?! Her mother, Jane, had been much more accepting of the idea, and quite honestly delighted at the idea of her daughter being a witch. Despite her formal appearance, deep down her mother was a bit of a hippy at heart. In her youth, her mother had been a wild child, with multi coloured hair, piercings and an expert on mushrooms, particularly the magic kind. No one really knew what had attracted her to the strict man who had become her husband.

As the arguments became more frequent, Hermione was relieved that she had Hogwarts to go to avoid them. But that summer, her parents' relationship had hit rock bottom. Her father had announced that he was leaving the family practice, to set up again with his mistress, whom he had kept for the past three years. He called her mother immature, and told her that despite his best efforts he had realised that she could never meet his expectations, and that he had only remained so long so as to support Hermione. Hermione wasn't meant to have heard any of this, but there were times when she felt it was important to use Fred's and George's Extendable Ears. Then he left, and neither Hermione nor her mother had heard from him since. Her mother had tried to get by as normal, but Hermione could see how much mental pain she was in. Since she'd been back at Hogwarts, she written everyday, to try and keep a smile on her mother's face.

Hermione wiped a tear from her cheek, and tried to concentrate on the book but images of her mother and father, and Snape drifted into her thoughts. She attempted to force them out with a shake of her head but to little avail. She didn't want to think about that now, any of that. Snape was the least of her problems. Was it so wrong anyway for a student to be attracted to a teacher? Hermione blushed at her own thoughts, and made a conscious effort never to let that idea cross her mind again.

A few hours later, she retired from the library and heading to her dormitory. She hadn't managed to make much of a start on her essay, which was most unlike her. She'd decided in the end to get a good night's sleep and try again in the morning, when she was much more focussed.

But, Hermione spent more time awake than she did asleep. Her hazel eyes refused to close, and instead remained wide open, as she stared into space, lost in her thoughts. The drapes around her bed were pinned back at either side, allowing her to see a sliver of moonlight escape through the drawn curtains into the dormitory, illuminating the room with a ghostly glow. Hermione could see the other beds belonging to her roommates, all sleeping, peaceful in their dreams. A random assortment of clothing, make-up and books were scattered across the floor.

Hermione sat up in her bed, and pushed back the sheets that covered her. Her body shivered under her cotton nightdress, after the impact of the cool air. Brushing her hair away from her eyes, she swung her legs over one side of the bed, and quietly reached her feet down, and slid them into her slippers. Pulling her dressing gown from a hook on the side of her bed, she wrapped it around her frame. Easing herself up from the bed, she padded across the room, and slipped behind the curtains, disappearing from view, all except her blue fluffy feet.

Hermione stared out at the stillness of the night. The silence caused her to tremble, as she took in the sight before her. The dark grounds of the castle sloped away in front of her, rolling towards the lake, which lay flat and glistening under the light of the full moon. The Forbidden Forest looked even darker, and more frightening than usual. A light breeze rippled through the trees, as they swayed gently under the night sky. Owls hooted softly from the surrounding treetops, and the rhythmic breathing of her sleeping companions calmed her fears.

She thought about the day that she'd had. The offer that Snape had produced had both been a pleasant surprise, and a worrying shock. She wondered why those two seemed to coincide so often. On the surface, she was delighted that she had been given the opportunity to prove her superior intelligence over the other students. She believed the possibility of her obtaining the higher grade was high, and would only improve her chances of having an even more successful career, if even at the age of 15, people had recognised her talent, and dedication to her subjects. She had now been offered the occasion to take extension papers in all the core subjects at Hogwarts – Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms and History of Magic. Much to her disappointment Professor Umbridge had failed to see her potential in Defence Against the Dark Arts, but then Hermione didn't like her much anyway. She hadn't expected Snape to put her forward. "Hogwarts, A History" stated that since Snape had taken up the position of Potions Master, no student had participated in the extension paper, despite Dumbledore's regular insistence. So she was pleased, but a nagging suspicion quivered in the back of her mind. Why?

His behaviour had been peculiar the past few days. The glances, the gazes, the smiles and he had hugged her back in the dungeon before. She was sure she felt his hold on he tighten, as she held him. She was also surprised at her own actions. Why had she thrown her arms around him? She was grateful, yes, but it was out of character for her. Perhaps, she concluded that it was something inside of her that longed to be held as someone more than just a friend. Perhaps she had, no definitely she had misinterpreted his looks as something more. Something she was desperate for. She'd never felt beautiful before, well not since Viktor, or before him for that matter. Often she wondered what it would be like to be admired by the boys in the school. To have offers of assistance with carrying her books, or to be walked to a lesson, hand in hand down the corridor.

Only once had she applied a little make up for school. Carefully, as he hands had been trembling she had put on the dark mascara, a hint of blush for her cheeks and a dash of gloss to her lips. Ron and Harry had noticed, and asked her what point was she trying to make. And she run to the nearest toilets to wash her face, as small black tears rolled from her eyes. She's never tried again, and didn't intend to.

Hermione sighed at the memory and hugged her body for warmth. What if Snape was attracted to her? Inwardly she scolded herself but she couldn't help thinking, what if?

After a few more minutes, she quietly crept back to bed, and slept fitfully. Her dreams punctured with visions of the Forbidden Forest, her parents, and finally Snape. In the end, she did fall into a deep sleep with a smile printed across her lips.


	14. Realisations

Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.

N.B I'm aware that Hermione's birthday is in September, but for the purpose of this story I've moved it to early summer.

Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far. Especially on recent chapters as they've all been lovely and complimentary, or at least not nasty or critical.

Special thanks to tallgiraffe32 who gave me LOADS of reviews, who I'm guessing has only just starting reading. So thank you for choosing to read this, and for reviewing to.

Also thank you to the people that haven't reviewed before (Rum and Coke and shootingstar32), it's always good to have new comments.

And thank you to the people that have been reviewing most of the way - particularly laxgal and T.C.Vincent and TCFellows.

Love you all very much xxxx

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Chapter 14 – Realisations

A few weeks later…

Snape sat in the window of his room. Morning was just breaking, and the sun was gradually rising over the mountains, casting a pale peach glow across the valley. A herd of thestrals grazed on a plateau just behind Hagrid's hut, where a faint stream of smoke curled it's way out of the stone chimney. A line of house elves whistled as they made their way back form Hogsmeade to collect groceries. Birds sang in the treetops, and the giant squid floated on the surface of the lake, basking in the morning light.

Snape smiled to himself, and brought his hand to his face to brush away a fallen strand of hair. He passed by his throat by felt the ominous lumps of swollen glands. Quickly his smile faded. Glancing down, he saw the red rash that had begun to appear. It had started as a few blotches on his chest, but now had spread down his arms. Hastily, he tugged down the sleeves of his robe, and mentally reminded himself of his motto, "If you can't see I, it isn't there."

His mind drifted to thoughts of Hermione. She had been attending his lessons for 3 weeks, and had even come on the day of her 16th birthday. Each week the pair had been growing closer. At first the touches had been accidental - a brief brush of the hand as he passed ingredients, and the touch of her hair against his cheek as he lent over her shoulder. She had been shy then, most unlike the previous Hermione he had seen in lessons. She seemed more innocent and … adoring. He believed he saw a longing deep in her hazel eyes, just the same longing he felt in his heart. He was no longer frightened to admit it to himself, in the secrecy of his private thoughts. He had fallen for her, so deeply he mourned the time they spent apart, but as of yet he had been too afraid to tell her.

She had still been a child, but at 16 he finally saw her for the woman that she was becoming. He no longer thought of her as a student, but as an equal. He longed to be able to share the details of his day with her, someone to talk to, to hold and to love, and he hoped against hope that she felt the same.

Recently, he had seen the way her eyes sparkled in the candlelight as she looked at him, as they discussed the newest discoveries, and what they were to do next time. As the sessions went by they sat increasingly closer together, their heads only inches apart. They had smiled together, and laughed together. Snape had been boosting her confidence as he complimented her skills, and each time her cheeks flushed scarlet, and she gazed at him in thanks, a smile across her cherry lips, and Snape had to hold himself back from taking her up into his arms, and kissing her.

As he had lay in bed that night, her face imprinted itself in his mind, and he decided that today would be the day he would tell her. He no longer cared about the list, she was better than that, she deserved better. He didn't want another one-night-stand, but a long-term companion, to share his life with.

But at the back of his mind, he harboured an ever growing fear, not of her acceptance, but of fear of losing her if she ever discovered what he had done over the years that he'd been at Hogwarts, and the fear that if she ever found out the reason why he had been like that, and the fear that she would learn the truth about his condition, and turn away from him. It would shatter his heart, and wound him to the very core of his soul.

He had sent her an owl that morning, asking her if she would like to go out for dinner that night, under the pretence of discussing her career and future plans. He would take her along with side apparition if she accepted.

Tap, tap, tap.

Snape turned his head to see a slight tawny owl, drumming its beak against the window. Tied to its leg was a letter. Snape recognised the hand writing as Hermione's and his heart leapt. Firmly he pulled the casement open, and a gust of wind blew the little owl inside. Frantically he tore the letter from its leg, earning himself a sharp peck on his knuckle. But he didn't care, he just wanted to know what it said.


	15. Preparations and Exclaimations

Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.

Note:- The use of laxatives in this chapter is just an idea, something I've read, and is not a healthly way to lose weight. Weight lost can be achieved by a good diet and exercise. Just thought I'd make that clear.

Thank you xxxx

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**Chapter 15 – Preparations and Exclaimations**

Hermione jumped from her seat as the library clock chimed five o'clock. She'd spent most of the afternoon in the library working on a particularly dull essay set by Professor Binns on "Goblin economy in the 9th Century and the establishment of Gringotts bank". She'd been having trouble finding books that went back this far, but at least, she consoled herself, she'd got more written down than Ron and Harry, who'd got about as far as the title, and as of yet had done little further work. She yawned and stretched her arms high above her head, feeling the satisfying crack in her bones that told her she'd been there long enough.

She glanced at the clock, wondering if two hours was long enough to get ready. Paravti and Lavender usually spent the entire afternoon getting ready for a date, but then Hermione's wasn't a date, was it? Snape had made it clear in his letter that taking her out for dinner was more of a meeting to talk about her future plans. Although Hermione had accepted this, deep down she had felt bitterly disappointed that it was nothing more. Again, and again she'd reminded herself that he was about 20 years older than her, and not only that but theirs should be strictly a teacher-student relationship. However Hermione couldn't help thinking what if?

Over the past few weeks, she'd seen a different side to Snape. Contrary to popular belief, he'd appeared kind. He'd made her smile, made her laugh. Every time she saw him she couldn't help feeling butterflies in her tummy, and blushing whenever he focussed his gaze on her. Secretly she'd hoped something would have come from it, but nothing had. She'd told no one about her feelings, and had resorted to complaining loudly about how irritating it was to have to spend so long in his presence. Ron and Harry, satisfied that her loyalties lied with them, had sympathised with her wholeheartedly. Only once had she been tempted to confide in Ginny, but she feared her friend's disapproval too much.

Once accepting the invitation of dinner for purely "business talk", she had toyed with the idea of not going (why subject herself to extra pain?) or not making an effort at all. However once Snape had informed her that they would be apparating to Edinburgh to go to the "Candela Lux Lucis" – a notoriously expensive restaurant, with a excellent reputation for good food, Hermione couldn't say no, and most definitely would have to make an effort.

She managed to enrol the help of Lavender and Parvati to help her get ready. The downside was that they had spent the morning quizzing Hermione on her escort for the evening, but after their questions had fallen on suddenly deaf ears, they themselves had concluded that he must be exceedingly handsome, and most definitely rich, and they were just as about as excited as Hermione.

Unfortunately for Hermione she had nothing suitable to wear, well nothing that her roommates deemed suitable. Lavender however had offered the loan of one of her dresses. Unfortunately again for Hermione, she was a few pounds larger than Lavender, and so after some persuasion, Parvati had convinced to her to take some half a bottle of laxative solution. Unfortunately again for Hermione, she had spent the remainder of the morning on the toilet, while Lavender and Parvati had murmured reassuring comments through the door.

However, despite Hermione's misgivings the solution had actually worked and she was now a considerable 9 pounds lighter than she had been that morning, although she doubted she'd ever go to extreme measures again.

The clock pealed for quarter-past. Remembering that she'd promised to be back at the room for five, she hurriedly gathered her belongings together and fled the library post-haste, earning herself a disapproving look from Madam Pince.

Five minutes later she reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, muttered the password, and promptly tumbled through the opening. As she looked up from a face full of carpet, she saw the reproachful faces of Lavender and Parvati.

"You're late."

"Sorry, I was in the library and…"

"This is more important than the library," squealed Parvati, "You're going to one of the most fashionable restaurants in the whole of the wizarding world, and there's so much to do!"

Hermione gave her an indignant look, and reluctantly followed the girls upstairs.

Upon reaching the dormitory, Hermione was ordered to the bathroom to wash her hair, shave her legs and armpits, and to smother her body with Parvati's bottle of "Glitter Fairy's Sparkling Liquid Silk" so that she could "shimmer and sparkle like a magical being". Hermione snorted on reading the label, and laughed that girls actually believed this nonsense.

Forty-five minutes later, after repeated calls and threats that they'd come and drag her out the bath, Hermione emerged wearing only her dressing gown. Her hair hung in damp waves around her pink cheeks, and despite her initial misgivings her skin was actually shimmering in the candlelight.

She was pulled down onto the stool in front of the dressing mirror, and Parvati and Lavender set to work. Her hair was dried off slightly and put into rollers, and dried more. While Parvati was doing this, Lavender began applying make-up with a professional flair. Concealer, foundation, powder, blusher, eyeshadow and mascara. With a final dab of peach gloss on her lips, Lavender declared her finished. With her hair still in rollers, Hermione put on some underwear, while the girls went to fetch the dress. She gasped when she saw it.

Hermione could barely believe her eyes, or the generosity of her friends. Lavender stood there, arms outstretched holding a hanger, and on the hanger was the most beautiful dress Hermione had ever seen. It was a deep crimson, that complimented her dark hair, and made of a finely spun silk of a similar water-like feel to Harry's invisibility cloak. The gown reached to the floor, but with a knee high split on the left side. The top was strapless, which would make the most of her ample chest, or so she was told. Around the hem and the top of the dress, it appeared to be shining in the candlelight, and upon closer inspection Hermione saw that it was real rubies that had been adhered to the fabric.

Parvati and Lavender helped a speechless Hermione into the dress, and smiled with delight. The rollers were removed from hair and teased into neat dark coils and misted with a firming spray.

Finally after what seemed like hours of preparation, they allowed Hermione to look in the mirror. Hermione turned and gasped as tears welled up in her eyes. She looked like a completely different person, so grown-up and elegant. Her hair hung in loose ringlets, and her face glowed with youthful beauty. The dress fitted perfectly, accentuating her hips, slim waist, and revealing enough cleavage to tantalise, but not enough to be at risk of falling out.

"I …I don't know what to say," stammered Hermione, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a lace handkerchief, tactfully placed in her hands by a proud Parvati.

Turning to her friends, she embraced them thankfully, and Lavender squealed with delight. "Ooohh you look so beautiful," she cooed.

"Definitely," agreed Parvati, nodding.

Hermione smiled.

The dormitory clock chimed for quarter to seven, and Hermione's heart leapt into her throat, beating wildly. She had to go and meet Snape, but her legs felt like jelly and she could feel her palms were damp with sweat.

"You should get going. You don't want to be late."

Hermione nodded, and breathing steadily to calm her nerves she left the safety of her bedroom, and entered the common room. She was greeted by various shocked expressions, and whistles. Harry frantically wiped his glasses that had steamed up in excitement and Ron glowered over the top of his book.

Hermione only smiled in return, no time to talk and made her way out the common room, through the portrait hole and down the corridors until she reached Snape's office. Bravely she tapped on the wood, and pushed the door open. Snape jumped up from his seat, his mouth open in surprise, and the glass of Firewhisky shattered on the stone where it had landed, released from his grasp.

"Hermione?" …

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Apologies for the long wait. I don't really have any good excuses, so I won't make any. Please review, and I'll keep going...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	16. Hearts, Roses and Tears

Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.

Well...I don't think I've ever written a chapter so quickly, or got it out so fast. Two in 24 hours!! Re-reading the old reviews and reading the new ones for the first time really spurred me on to write, and I don't think I've enjoyed writing a chapter as much as I did this one in a while. I think this is one of my favourite chapters so far and I hope you enjoy it and please review :) xxxxx

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Chapter 16 – Hearts, Roses and Tears

"Yes Professor," came the timid reply

Snape's mouth hung open in surprise. The last time he'd seen her was at their last class, a couple of nights ago. Her hair had been tied roughly back in a bun at the nape of her neck, with loose strands that escaped down her neck and over her face. Her school robes had been immaculate, and her face make-up free – just a schoolchild.

Now, before him stood a woman. She appeared as beautiful as the nightingales' song, as graceful as a dancer and as serene as a full moon in a starlit sky. Snape struggled to regain his composure. He felt inadequate in her presence. His suit felt tight and his shoes were not as shiny as he had believed. His mouth opened and shut, attempting to form words that his brain couldn't conceive. He wanted to tell her that she looked stunning. He wanted to tell her that he had been looking forward to this night for weeks, since the idea had first come to him. He wanted to tell her about his life, about what had happened, what had been done. He wanted to weep upon her bare shoulder and ask for her forgiveness, an unrealistic hope that she would feel the same and pardon his sins. His heart thumped in its cavity and he clenched his hands together to steady himself.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself up to his full height, and opted for denial. "Miss Granger, it's already five past. I assumed you would take this occasion more seriously and be on time. I see that I was wrong. If you please, Miss Granger, we must leave directly. The restaurant does not hold tables as a result of the apparent female prerogative to arrive late, especially as the female in question is little more than a child."

Hermione's heart plummeted. The gleam of excitement in her eyes vanished. Blinking back tears, she raised her head and walked towards her teacher to take his arm for apparation. She felt wounded to the core. Her fantasies crashed down around her, falling down on the alcohol-drenched floor, which glinted menacingly with glass.

Snape saw the light extinguished from her. Acid rose in his stomach. Fighting it down, he consoled himself that he had to be cruel to be kind. Cruel to himself, and cruel to Hermione.

"Miss Granger."

Snape held out his arm, and Hermione grasped gingerly onto his robes. Snape closed his eyes, the room began to spin and with a loud POP the pair disappeared. This was the first time Hermione had apparated, and found that she wasn't altogether fond of the experience. She gripped his arm more tightly, and found that Snape held her hand in his own. In this she found reassurance, but the rush of blood in her ears, and the current of air that spun them around unnerved her.

Suddenly her feet touched solid ground. Opening her eyes, she steadied herself, feeling slightly nauseous from the trip. Taking deep breaths, she realised she was still linked to Severus. Instantly, she dropped his arm, which burned under his touch, her cheeks flushed furiously. Snape saw her blushing, and his heart skipped a beat. Feeling his resolve wavering, he had to make a conscious effort to control himself. Brushing down his suit with an arrogant air, he indicated the way to Hermione with a flick of his finger and strode ahead, while Hermione tottered to keep up.

Looking around Hemione saw that they were in a city street. It was dark already, and the shops and restaurants glowed with artificial light. Couples strode arm in arm down the cobbled street, stopping to peer into candlelit windows, and the stars above. An old woman approached Snape holding a basket of roses; her eyes moved from his face to Hermione's, a few steps behind. Snape turned upon her approach, and saw the disappointment in her eyes.

"I'll take one," he said, and handed the old woman a handful of coins.

Gratefully Hermione reached out and took the beautiful red rose from his hand. She smiled in delight, and butterflies erupted in her stomach.

"She needed the money," was all Snape said, but the twitch of his lips seemed to say something different to Hermione, but she couldn't be sure.

Snape had slowed his pace by now, and walked level with Hermione. She couldn't help looking at the man beside her. He appeared so different to the Professor she saw at Hogwarts. His ebony suit was well cut, and complimented his dark hair and eyes. There was also colour in his cheeks, which took away the sallowness of his face. Even his steps seemed different for now he walked patiently beside her, instead of his customary stride seen in the dungeons. His arrogance and cruelty, much to her dismay, still seemed to be present, but just his expression as they conversed seemed softer, more approachable. Despite his earlier behaviour, she felt herself falling for him, and longed to reach out her hand and hold his arm once more.

Severus looked at her as they talked. Her face was animated and she smiled. He was finding it difficult to keep up with his usual demeanor. Dam it, he'd even made a joke, not a very good one, but a joke all the same, and Hermione had chuckled appreciatively. Glancing up from her face, he stopped seeing they had reached their destination. Gently he laid a hand on her back, not meaning to but startling Hermione, and indicated the restaurant.

Hermione gasped. Firstly for the shock of his touch, which sent electricity shooting up and down her spine, and secondly for the restaurant. She didn't think she'd ever seen a more beautiful place in the world. "Candela Lux Lucis" was proclaimed in austere letters upon a wooden sign, the script flashing in the night air. Delicate fairies hovered around the doorway, scattering dust on people that stood before the building. Hermione felt the powder rain down on her skin, catching the light as it fell twirling through the air.

Walking through the door, held open by the attendant, she entered the interior, with Snape just behind, his hand still discreetly touching her, propelling her forwards. The pair passed tables covered with ivory cloths, and laid with silver cutlery, which glimmered under the candles that hovered delicately in the air above their heads. Golden vines wound themselves around oaken beams that held up the ceiling, and the place had a strange feel of being rustic but elegant at the same time. The restaurant wasn't busy. Only two other tables were occupied, each by couples who gazed lovingly at one another, and whispering their secrets across the table, their fingers intertwined. Waiters were dressed in white, giving off a kind of, what Hermione imagined to be, an ethereal glow. One smiled kindly and indicated a table next to the window on the other side of the restaurant. Severus pulled her chair out, and she suddenly felt overcome with the atmospheric beauty of it all. The maître d' appeared beside them, while Snape sat down, and produced two menus out of the air, and nodded to the pair, and welcomed them to his restaurant. Hermione took the menu from his outstretched hand. It was a light as a feather, and shone the colour of mother-of-pearl. Upon closer inspection, Hermione saw that it was made from woven strands of unicorn hair, and the menu was written with liquid gold. The letters danced across the page, and formed the names of the dishes that were available. Silently, a single tear escaped down her cheek. Serverus saw and knew that if he followed his heart, there would be many more tears to come. From him, and Hermione alike.


End file.
